When's Lunch?
by aragornwen
Summary: Only Rana could destroy half a city block with half a grilled cheese sandwich. Takes place about 13 years after Aliit Ori'shya Tal'din.


"When's lunch, Ba'vodu Rana?"

Rana raised an eyebrow, invisible behind her T-shaped visor, as she surveyed her charge. Galaar, clad in his new teal beskar'gam, was already perched on the two-passenger speeder bike. In the pilot's seat. "Budge up, ad'ika. You're not driving. Not in this traffic, anyway."

"Aw…" Unwillingly, he scooted back so that Rana could get on. She swung her leg over, flipping the ragged hem of her black kama out from underneath her. The bike roared to life, and Rana aimed it toward the city center, narrowly missing a collision with a dingy, early-model landspeeder. She felt Galaar flinch at the near escape.

"What?" she asked, slightly irritated. "Be still. It throws off the balance."

He didn't answer as they rocketed through the outskirts, passing warehouses and factories. Not until they had passed at least three questionable structures that might have been cantinas did he break the silence. "Ba'vodu Rana, I'm hungry."

Rana's gaze flicked briefly to the chrono in her HUD. "Good stars, son, we just ate not two hours ago!"

"But I'm hungry again. Can I have a snack?" His tone hovered between pleading and offhandedness, and Rana heaved an exasperated sigh.

"You should have eaten more in the first place, if you're so hungry now."

"But- I did! I was full. I just… got hungry again."

Rana rolled her eyes but started looking for street vendors. Spotting one up ahead, she slowly decelerated and stopped in front of it. "There. Food. Happy now?"

He nodded and slipped off the bike, handing the robed humanoid behind the stand a cred chip and accepting the slightly singed bread slices in return. It wasn't until the stand was lost to sight in the growing traffic that he mentioned what Rana had been wondering how long it would take him to notice.

"How am I supposed to eat it with my helmet on?" he asked plaintively.

Rana shrugged. "You're smart. Figure something out."

"How long til we get there?"

"Few more minutes."

Galaar let out a small, impatient exhalation but settled back to wait it out.

Rana halted the speeder bike in front of a tall, windowless building and dismounted. Galaar stared up at it incredulously, sandwich still clutched in one gloved hand. "Ba'vodu Rana, are you sure we're in the right place?"

"Positive. You coming, or you just want to sit on the speedie?"

He slid off and followed her through the doors, still doubtful. "But… fireworks?"

Rana ignored his question, striding purposefully up to the front desk in the slightly dingy lobby. The secretary, a mousy-looking human female, gawked shortsightedly up at her. "Can- can I help you?" she gasped.

Rana slipped off her helmet. "I'm here to see Cord Danacar," she answered in heavily Keldabe-accented Basic.

"Do you have an appointment?" the secretary asked dazedly, taking in the long scar across one cheekbone that wound down to disappear beneath the collar of Rana's black bodysuit.

"No," Rana replied casually. Behind her, Galaar had removed his helmet too, and was munching away at his sandwich, which appeared to be filled with some sort of cheese.

The secretary blinked in a bewildered sort of way. "Ah… name please?"

"Rana Talgal."

The woman nodded, bemused, and waved vaguely at a collection of chairs in a corner. "Ah, if you'd like to take a seat…"

"No, we'll stand, thanks," Rana answered nonchalantly, leaning a beskar-clad elbow on the desk's high back. The secretary blinked at her, apparently decided against arguing, and pressed a few keys, murmuring into the comlink headset she was wearing. A few moments later, she looked back up at Rana.

"Mr Danacar will see you now. Follow Darik, please." She indicated a door in the far wall, which had slid open to reveal a hulking, dark-skinned man.

Rana nodded, quirking an eyebrow. "Vor'e," she called over her shoulder, and followed the man along the dim hallway, Galaar and his sandwich trailing behind them. The hall twisted and turned, and Rana was fairly sure that Danacar's office was not in this direction, since the sound of machinery was growing quite loud. They rounded a last corner, coming out into a vast open room filled with complex-looking equipment. The man turned to face her, and Rana was unsurprised to be staring down the barrel of a nasty-looking blaster rifle. Cursed bounty hunters. "Easy with that, bur'cya, it might go off and hurt somebody," she remarked dryly.

"None of that," Darik growled. "Now hands up. You're worth more alive."

Galaar stopped chewing and stared. Rana sighed mentally. When they got out of this, there were going to be a lot of interesting questions to answer… She laughed. "You're funny, bud. I'm doing no such thing."

Darik's eyes narrowed. "You will if you want the kid in one piece."

Galaar's eyes went wide with shock and swallowed convulsively. Rana snorted, her tone eloquently scornful. "Yeah, you and what army." She glanced back at Galaar and gave him a surreptitious wink, then knocked the blaster barrel to the side and drove an armored fist into Darik's gut. He collapsed, gasping, and she grabbed for the gun, trying to wrest it from his grip. He pulled the trigger, and the bolt went wild, striking sparks from some important-looking machine. Rana swore and aimed a punch at his nose. "You utreekov, are you trying to kill us all? The whole place could blow-" Blood flowed freely down Darik's face as he snarled, trying to aim the blaster at Rana.

"Oh, I don't have time for this," she muttered disgustedly, and drove her knuckleplate vibroblade into his throat. Galaar turned slightly green as Darik choked and went limp, the blaster rifle clattering to the floor. Rana stood, wiping blood from her hand with the ragged kama, and glanced around. The important-looking piece of machinery was still sparking erratically, and she suddenly had an idea.

"You gonna finish that?" she asked Galaar, who shook his head mutely and handed over the half-eaten sandwich. She crossed the floor to the machine, selected a panel, opened it, and shoved the sandwich in among the circuits and wires. "That should do it," she said smugly, replacing her helmet.

"You… fixed it?" Galaar guessed, confused and still slightly pale.

"No," Rana said offhandedly. "If I did it right, this whole place will go up in about… a minute and a half." Behind her, the machine started making a high-pitched whine. Galaar stared at her for a moment, then replaced his helmet.

"Can we leave now?"

"That would be my next move," she replied, and both of them sprinted back along the corridor as klaxons began to blare. A loudspeaker shouted something about a system failure and personnel evacuation, and Galaar quickened his pace, Rana right on his heels. The hall hadn't seemed so long the first time, but they finally reached the front lobby. Rana was unsurprised to see the secretary's desk empty as they raced by. The doors slid open right in front of them, and Galaar jumped onto the front seat of the speeder bike. Rana's brain registered this a fraction of a second before she vaulted onto the seat behind him, but by then it was too late. The bike soared away, and Rana glanced behind her to watch the explosion. It was glorious. Oranges and yellows mingled with patches of purple and green, and she wished, too late, for a holocam. The shockwave hit them, buffeting the speeder bike, but Galaar held it steady, rocketing back toward the ship. Maybe she'd let him drive more often… He wasn't bad.

"You know," she said, grinning suddenly behind her visor, "I'll probably never get that payment now, but by Mand'alor's mask, that explosion was worth every credit."

"Mama was right," Galaar muttered, but she could tell he was smiling. "You are crazy."


End file.
